Defaint Till The End
by Spunkie Cowgirl
Summary: When captured by the Lord of Evil, Sora finds herself in a situation of controversey. Being the last of the rebels, Sora must not convert and must find a way to bring others to hope. How does she do that with Matt standing in her way? Vampire Sorato


Disclaimer: Hey all, what's up. Yup it's Wandering Rain, Ishidas girl, Now Seattle By Nite whatever you wanna call me. So ya, It's been awhile since I've written. I just got bored, I've been sick and carless lol. I just got a new car! Yay! I'm excited, so I might not be back for awhile. I dunno. I think I'm gonna change my name to Spunkie Cowgirl lol. So ya, I don't own ANYTHING. lol

Summary: In stories, it is always Good verses Evil, well in this story, Evil must be fought by another sort of evil. Brought into the darkness of the dungeon, hope is reborn. A female vampire, the last of her kind, is imprisoned into the lair of Lord Valcot. Refusing to convert, she brings a new meaning to the word: hell. In her way of defeating the Lord of Evil, is Yamato Ishida, one of the first converts. Will she bring hope back to his stone heart or will he die for the evil that has consumed him?

**Story Title:** **Defiant till the End**

**Chapter: 1**

**Chapter Title: Welcome to Hell**

**Welcome to Hell**

Struggling to awaken, red eyes slowly found their way open. The red haired beauty quickly tried to regain her stature. She found it difficult to do so from the pounding on her head and distinct sharp pain in her stomach and shoulder. Gazing at what seemed ahead of her, she found herself staring at the ground. "What the hell?" she whispered. Gazing up, her eyes met the back of a blonde haired man. She struggled to remember the past events, but eventually found herself trailing back.

Resting beneath a tree, the sound of men and the touch of rain on her face awoke her. Pouncing to her feet, she hissed at the sound. "Damnit, they found me." She quickly took off through the massive forest. Her weary feet just would not travel fast enough. She needed to feed. The tips of her fangs rested on her lower lip, craving to feast on blood. She shook her head, "no" she whispered. By this time, the crowd of men had emerged from the trees before her. Two shots were heard amongst the lands, following them a vile, braying scream. Pinned to the tree behind her, two stakes held her above the ground. One rested through her stomach; the other directly into left shoulder. Four caped men approached her trembling body. One of the men removed his cloak, his blonde hair stuck to his face and his icy blue orbs glowed in the nightly rain. He was dressed to kill. His long black coat, black muscle shirt beneath outlining the prominent eight pack and black what looked like jeans. He was one of them, the men who either converted you or killed you. She too was dressed to kill. Her upper body was adorned in a tight black long sleeve shirt, cut off below her breasts. Its sleeves extended to her hands, a piece wrapping around her middle finger. Her jeans fit tightly around her slender hips, outlining her small legs. Her glimmering ruby orbs stared back at his icy blue orbs. They both stared at each other for a while, it almost seemed like they were fighting a silent war. He took a step back, the last thing she remembered was his fist heading towards her face.

This new place was dark, wet, and cold. The stench of mildew tried to cover up the other smells, but they remained. Death and Decay freshened the air. Slightly, she lifted her head; the place was too dark to see. Her eyes lit, the outlines of shapes slowly coming to picture. She was in a dungeon. Bodies were hung on walls, some alive and some not so alive. A spirit seemed to thrive in this place, a dark spirit. The air was so depressing, nearly suffocating. Everything in this place was black, rusted, and bloody. There was no light, no hope, just death. This was her new hell.

Her ride came to a halt at the end of a hall. The air here was heavier than normal. Her eyes gazed around, anxiously searching for this heavy presence felt. This evil spirit was stronger here. She could feel eyes peering upon her, but from where? Stopping her thoughts, she found this as an opportune moment to escape. Forcefully pushing her hands upon her abductors back, she swung her legs. Kicking him in the crotch, she flipped back only to fall to her knees, clenching her stomach. Blood oozed from the upper section of her stomach, where a wound from the stake appeared. She firmly placed her hand upon it, her fingers feeling the outlines of her intestines. Her blood seeped from the cracks between her fingers. She hissed from pain of her wound. Gazing up, she saw her opponent arising. Slowly, she arose herself. Staring evilly at her blonde haired opponent, she braced to fight.

"Do you think this is wise, my dear?" he questioned. His voice was deep, seducing but cold.

"It's better than being imprisoned in a God-forsaken cell." She hissed back.

"We both know who will win this fight." He smirked.

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah..me."

He laughed, "You're stubborn, but a fool. For you will loose this battle. You are far to weak."

"Why don't you find out?"

He rolled his eyes and began walking towards her. She watched his movements. The way his chest moved with his breathes, the way his eyes wandered with his steps, the way he stepped, the wavering of his hair with his steps. She studied him well. In one moment, he disappeared.

She growled, "Nice try, doll." Back kicking, she felt her heel meet with his crotch once more. She could feel the air moving as he began to fall to the ground. Along his way, her foot met with his pretty face. Spinning around, she rested herself upon him. She put her fingertips along the sides of his neck, claws slowly emerging. She bent down, her long scarlet locks falling to the side of her face. "So who's beating who?" Planting her feet on the other sides of his knees, she thought she had him beat.

Chuckling, he brought his masculine arms up and grabbed her slender shoulders. Plummeting her below him, he pushed his body against hers. His face came mere inches from hers. She could feel every piece of him against her. He placed his legs along the outsides of hers, and slid hers tightly in between his. Grabbing her slender wrists, he held them tightly within his right hand, resting them above her head. "Give up?" he whispered, watching her cringe from the weight of his body.

"Never." She whispered.

"You're a fool."

She tried to force him off, but she was far too weak and he was much too powerful. Lowering his head, he met her neck. Gliding his lips, lightly licked upon her neck, he began to attempt to seduce her. He ran his fangs slowly over her neck, following with his tongue. He felt her slowly begin to relax. He began to move his hand to the lower section of her stomach. Running his hand up her stomach, over her ribs, he slid his fingers slowly under her tight black top. He felt her start to come to him. He smiled, massaging her gently. He slowly loosened his legs, that was his mistake.

In that moment, she kicked her knee up, wrapping her right leg around his. She rolled upon him, sinking her heel into his knee. She head butt him, and leapt to the side. "Men."

He growled, rubbing his head and holding his knee. "Bitch."

She smiled, "That's me."

He popped his neck, extended his claws and slowly headed her way. She stepped to the side, he followed. He leapt at her. He came with brute force, pinning her to the rock wall. Slamming his fist into her stomach, he not only knocked the wind from her, but also expanded her wound. She cried out in pain, and began to sink to her knees. She was stopped abruptly in her fall. Cringing, she looked up to see chains wrapped tightly around her wrists. She gave a questionable look.

Gazing around her surroundings, she found herself in a cell. "Bastard." She hissed. She struggled, only making the chains tighter. They became so tight, blood oozed from the sides of the chains; her wrists began to skin themselves. She tried to feel for the ground with her feet, but it was not found. Resisting tears, she found herself passing out. The last thing she heard was his voice.

"Welcome to Lord Valcot's Prison. Your new hell."

* * *

**-To be Continued-**

**So ya, what'd ya think? I know, I haven't written in a while. It's a piece of crap probably lol. But, still review away. Thanks,**

**-_Seattle by Nite_**


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